


an ounce of discretion

by hjea



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3253064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hjea/pseuds/hjea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Peggy share a moment of downtime during the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	an ounce of discretion

**Author's Note:**

> I've set this story sometime during the montage sequence of Captain America: The First Avenger, before Bucky's death. I always thought Peggy handled that very public reveal of whose picture Steve carries in his compass rather well all things considered. Maybe she was feeling suitably mollified. ;)
> 
> Many thanks as always to the indomitable [Carrie](http://fidesangelus.tumblr.com/) for reading this over.

Steve was staring at his reflection, thinking about how grateful he was to be back in the relative comfort of SSR’s field camp but how much _more_ grateful he’d be if he were still asleep, when there was a muffled thumping sound that passed for a knock against the canvas of his tent. Steve turned bleary eyes from the shaving mirror as a crisp and very welcome voice asked, “Are you decent?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah!” 

The tent flap pushed aside and Peggy walked in, her mouth already twisting in an effort not to laugh as Steve straightened and knocked his head against the centre pole. “Hello Steve.”

“Hi.” Steve smiled ruefully and rubbed his head. “It’s great to see you. You look...great.” 

“Thank you.” Peggy’s eyes flicked downwards and then up again, taking in Steve’s current state. “Oh dear,” she smiled teasingly. “Not quite up to regulation yet, are we?” 

Steve swallowed and glanced down at the t-shirt half-tucked into his uniform pants, those in turn stuffed unceremoniously into his unlaced boots. At Peggy’s nod, he also remembered the shaving brush held in one hand, which he’d only just managed to dab on one cheek over two-days’ growth of scruffy beard. 

“Yeah, not my best look.” Steve agreed with another rueful smile. “We only got into camp at 0300 last night and I’d swear I just put my head down before it was time to get up again.” 

Peggy tilted her head sympathetically. “You can’t get a few more winks? I’m sure we could manage without you.” 

Steve shook his head. “Got a debrief with Colonel Phillips in a half hour. I just haven’t gotten around to---” 

A large yawn interrupted him mid-sentence, and Steve quickly slapped a hand over his mouth to cover it. “Sorry.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I’ve got no right to complain. I know if I told the boys we had to turn around and march out again this morning they wouldn’t grumble.” 

“Well I’m not sure that’s _entirely_ true.” Peggy noted wryly. 

Steve’s face cracked open in another yawn before he could espouse more on the virtues of the Commandos’ endurance and Peggy shook her head, half-exasperated and half-fond as she so often seemed to be around Steve. 

“Here.” She gestured at Steve’s cot behind him and waited until he sat down, before picking up his tepid basin of water, tin of soap, and razor and placing them on the folding table beside him. She then turned the sole chair in the tent around to face Steve, undoing her jacket and placing it carefully on the chair’s back before she settled in it, one knee sliding between Steve’s as she scooted closer. She held out one hand. “Brush?” 

“Uh…” Steve stared at her, bemused. “What are you doing?” 

“We can’t have you shaving in this condition, you’re liable to cut your own throat. Hardly a romantic ending for Captain America, hmm?” She stuck her hand out again. “Brush.” 

Steve laughed, and with no more protests, handed it over. “Thank you.” He said with genuine feeling, looking Peggy steadily in the eyes. He could have sworn that she began to blush, but she looked away too quickly, clearing her throat and busying herself lathering the brush. 

“Since you hadn’t heard,” Peggy began as she briskly worked the brush over his face, “we’re headed back to Blighty tomorrow, you and the Commandos included. We have to collate the past few months of information we’ve collected on Hydra with some of the code-breaking work done at HQ before we determine where next to send you. Should give you at least a week’s rest.” 

Steve felt his shoulders relax at that news. “Thanks. I know the fellas will be grateful to hear that.”

“Only the fellas?” She mimicked.

“No.” Steve fought off another yawn. “And me too. Whatever everyone might think, even Captain America needs sleep. Still only human after all.” 

Peggy smiled warmly. “So I keep saying.” 

They sat in comfortable silence then, and Steve even let his eyes drift close as Peggy finished with the brush and began to run the razor over his cheek, her fingers resting under his chin gently directing him to tilt his face one way then another. Steve opened his eyes again and regarded the careful look on concentration on her face. “You know what you’re doing.” He observed. 

“Shh.” Peggy admonished, waving the razor in warning before she applied it back to his neck. “My father taught me.” She said after a moment. Steve’s eyes widened in surprise, but he wisely didn’t say anything else, waiting for Peggy to continue. “With a straight razor actually. Which makes this--” she pulled the safety razor up in one single smooth move over his jugular, “--considerably easier.” She ran her fingertips up the path the razor had just taken. Steve couldn’t stop the gulp he made at the feel of her skin against his now bare throat. One side of Peggy’s mouth twitched in pleasure, confirming she knew exactly what she was doing to him and Steve dug his fingers into his knees to stop himself from reaching for her. 

“It is a better shave with a straight razor I think. But you’ll nearly do.” Peggy swished the razor in the basin before moving to finish with Steve’s chin. 

“Thank you again.” Steve said when he judged it to be safe to talk again. “You really didn’t have to do this. God knows you have more important things to do around here.” 

Peggy shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps I needed a few minutes of rest myself before getting on with the day. Although,” she rolled her eyes, “if someone did want to find me I couldn’t pick a worse hiding spot than your tent.” 

Steve’s forehead creased in confusion. “Uh… why?” 

“I’m afraid the jig’s rather up in that regard.” 

“What?” Steve looked blank for a moment and then winced in realization. “Oh shit. The compass.” 

Peggy arched her brow. “Quite.” 

“I made those newsreel guys promise me they weren’t going to use that.”

Peggy snorted. “Then I’m afraid you were being frightfully naïve. Captain America with a picture of the girl he always carries with him? That’s the kind of thing the newsreels are made for.” 

“And here I was thinking they were for taking footage of the commandoes beating Hydra.” Steve muttered darkly. 

Peggy smiled softly, and her fingers brushed the underside of his jaw once more as she tilted it to run the razor one last time over his chin. “Frightfully naïve.” She murmured again, and set the razor down with finality on the table. 

Steve sagged a little, and then off Peggy’s questioning look shook his head and smiled despite himself. “Shit,” he repeated, “I’m sorry. You must be angry with me.” 

Peggy leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, eyes narrowed critically as she assessed her handiwork as well as, Steve imagined, the guilty look on the face underneath it. “I should be angry.” She agreed. “I should be furious. It was hardly what you’d call discreet.”

Steve nodded fervently “I know.” 

“And I am an Agent of the SSR. I’m not sure if you noticed, but it’s not exactly easy to remain under the radar with your face on every screen both sides of the pond.” 

“I know.” 

“It’s difficult being a woman in my position. I need to be taken seriously, at all times.” 

“I know.”

“I should be angry.” 

Steve held his breath, waiting for her to continue. Instead, Peggy leaned forwards again toward Steve and kissed him. He blinked in surprise but quickly caught on, wrapping his hand gently around the back of her neck and dragging them closer together. Her mouth opened under his and Steve nearly whimpered at the feeling of the warm slide of her tongue against his. After several moments Peggy pulled back, taking a deep breath as she nudged her nose against Steve’s. “I’m glad you’re back.” She whispered. 

Her thumb smoothed away a last smudge of soap from his jawline before her lips pressed against the same spot. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed. “Me too.” 

Steve ducked his head, trying to find her lips with his again, but Peggy pulled further back with a slight shake of her head and rested a finger against his mouth. “I thought you had a meeting with Phillips?” 

Steve shrugged. “I’m Captain America. I can be a few minutes late.”

Peggy snorted again and muttered a rather uncharacteristic, “Yeah right,” under her breath. But she stood and moved deliberately from her chair to join him on the cot, half straddling his lap as she cupped his smooth cheeks in both hands. “Just a few minutes?” 

Steve nodded. “No time at all,” he promised with a grin, and allowed Peggy to press him slowly down onto his back.


End file.
